Scions
by Black Jellyfish
Summary: Snow and Targaryen. Golden Company commander and Queen. Man and woman. Two refugees from Westeros. Two people chasing their destiny.


Written by Black Jellyfish and co-planned by 1

* * *

"My liege!"

Jon wakes up to a boot slamming into his side. He was alert in an instant, leaping from the hammock and reaching for his dagger. He sighed. Jolly good Arthur Dayne, as usual.

The grizzled knight grinned from ear to ear. "Do you know what time it is?" Jon looked up through the ceiling of the cabin. The men of the Golden Company were roaming the deck, as he could tell by the footsteps, and he could smell oats being cooked.

"You wish to eat breakfast?" asked Dayne. "No," said Jon. "I want a win."

The great Dayne cordially tossed a sword to Jon. Not a practice one, no, but a real one, sharp steel. He pulls his own sword the scabbard with his left hand from. "You wish to do this in a more open area?"

Jon shook his head. "You've taught me always to prepare for every situation."

Dayne chortled. "That I did." With a flurry of blades, the cabin was filled with the sound of clashing steel. But alas, Jon was swiftly knocked to his back with his retainer's sword tip barely, just barely touching his throat.

"Ten years, Ser Arthur." Jon chuckled ruefully. "Ten years, three thousand, six hundred and fifty matches, and you've bested me once more. How can you expect me to become better than you?"

"Now, now my liege," Arthur sheathed his sword. "You do not have to be perfect in everything or even anything. But a good leader, no, a great leader must set an example for his subjects. Strength, wisdom, justice, even holiness...without virtues, you're no more use to your kingdom than a broken arrow. Keep it up."

Jon joined in his retainer's chuckling but he couldn't help but think. Has it really been seven years? He wondered. Has it really been ten years since he was taken from his home of Winterfell, his Uncle Ned grabbing him by the shoulders and unloading his lengthy family history upon his tiny head and sending him with the remnants of the Targaryen loyalists?

Was it really just a year ago they had infiltrated the Golden Company, worked their way up the ranks, and took it over?

 _I'm twenty now_ , Jon gave his head a quick shake, _why do I feel I'm one hundred_?

Nevertheless, he kept his eyes on Dayne as the man left them room. _I have to be strong_ , he thought. _I have to be wise, have to be just, and who's to say I can't wish for the gods to favor me? Only my allies and I have the chance to retire my family's power and purge the memory of the late Aerys from it. Only we can bring Targaryen rule back to life and return Westeros to how it was._

* * *

The two men stood before a door, once ornate, now charred. Three hours of travel had brought them here, and the only thing between them and the Queen is an odd man with a self-confident smirk.

"I am Daario Naharis, gentlemen." I am to receive any and all guests that will partake in Her Grace's presence." Arthur Dayne nodded, taking in the man's blue hair dye and the gold tooth that flashed in his smile. _What barrel did the queen scrape you out of_? He wondered. He took a step forward, and the lad behind him followed suit.

"Hold," commanded Daario as his hand went to his arakh, his eyes looking at the guests' own swords. "Her Grace is alone. I cannot let such strangers go in her chambers the way you are."

Arthur smiled and gestured behind him. "He's not quite a stranger, are you, boy?" The young man straightened and looked directly into Daario's eyes. "I am the Queen's nephew. My name is Maegor Targaryen, but my friends call me Jon."

Daario was silent for a moment, his smile frozen, then stood aside and motioned to the door. "You can go in, Maegor." Jon nodded curtly, walked in, closed the door behind him, and has his breath knocked out of him.

The Queen sat completely straight in a plain gray robe, her brilliant white hair flowing straight down her back and her violet eyes blazing in spite of her solemn expression. Jon immediately felt like kicking himself. That was his aunt. He gave a hasty bow. "Hello, your Grace. I am…"

"I heard you through the door. I see you have met Daario." Her eyes pierced his. "I am sorry. I do not feel like making small talk at a time like this. I have not been to Westeros, not once in my life, and I know you have much to tell me." She settled back into her chair, pointing to the chair beside hers. "How much time do you have to spare me?"

Jon quickly regained his senses. "As much time as you need…your Grace."

He sat down quickly. "So," Jon began. "Is there anything you would like to discuss first?" He broke his gaze with the Queen's violet eyes.

"As a matter of fact…" Daenerys raised her voice. "Daario?" The odd man was inside the room in a minute, the door slamming behind him. "Your Grace?" The Queen turned her eyes to him. "Thank you for your services thus far. We will not need them in the future. I will fully compensate you."

Daario's smile froze. "Your Grace?"

"Pack your arms, armor, and men. Collect your pay. It will last you for one year after today. Leave Meereen and seek employment elsewhere. The Golden Company will be charged with my orders from now." Daario took one step forward. "Your Grace…"

"I need you to leave." The Queen's raised her voice. The man immediately turned around, hiding his face, and left.

Jon turned to the Queen. "Your company will handle my operations. I will not need two." Jon opened his mouth. "Why not, Your Grace?" He immediately shut up. He had overextended himself! Nevertheless, the Queen answers this question.

"You have as many men and arms as Daario. Furthermore, I am sure you were told why you were coming to me. You will work very closely with me. I am afraid that Daario is a jealous man; it would not do to keep him around here as long as we work together. You do know why you were summoned, correct?"

Jon nodded. "We are the last scions of House Targaryen. It is our mission to liberate Westeros. It was Uncle Ned who tasked me with this."

Dany froze. "Uncle…Ned? Ned Stark, you mean?" She spoke, coldly and firmly, once Jon nodded. "The man who aided Robert Baratheon and deposed my father sent you? How can I trust you? How do I know you are loyal to our family?"

Jon straightened in his chair. "Uncle Ned is loyal to the security of the Realm. My mother's disappearance disabled Westeros, and someone had to fix it. He trusts King Robert Baratheon with his life but he knows that his court is filled with the self-serving and that his seed are not fit to rule. He is willing to support you, through me, because he knows that you are not your father. What we want, what we need is peace, and a lasting one."

His eyes bore into the Queen. "I will support you. But it will be on my terms, not yours. You need me more than I need you." The Queen tries to speak, but Jon cuts her off. "As long as we work for the same goal, I am eager to join forces with you. If not, you need not see me again."

A long silence, and then Daenerys issues her next command. "Leave. We will meet again at dusk."

Jon nods, gets up, bows, and marches out of the room.


End file.
